as taken from my journal...

i wrote today, but decided perhaps it was a sentiment worth sharing with the internet world. amusez-vous bien, mes amis:

>>i recently found an old webshots album online. i posted some pre-france and first semester france photos on this site, in the pre-facebook days and then forgot about them almost completely.

seeing some paris pictures 1) reminded me that, actually, i kind of love paris and 2) inspired me to cut my straight-across bangs. again. i seem to get into a bangs mood every two years. 2005. 2007. now it's 2009...

those first bangs, 2005, were cut during an evening in angers, as i was holed up in my little bedroom, trying to stay warm as christmas and a brief parisian vacation approached.

i remember being slightly terrified as i took that first chop, a big one, one where there was no option of backing out, with a pair of just regular old scissors.

it was exhilarating.

there was a slight, short-lived moment of regret, but as i layered on cute french-y clothes, i found myself feeling more chic, more french, une vraie francaise, une vraie parisienne. it sounds funny, but something in me clicked and i found myself experimenting more with clothes than i ever had in the us. mixing colors, patterns, textures, layering with scarves and jewelry, and accessories. hats, which i had never really thought to wear before.

i felt myself feeling more poised, confident, dangerous, sexy, mysterious. i could wear more eye makeup...coquette-ishly glance through my new fringe, batting my eyelashes, smiling flirtatiously, smiling confidently.

i was an american who had a grasp, a true, strong grasp, on the french culture, on the french language.

from there, i vacationed with my friends jeremy and tranisha through the streets, the museums, the late night bars and parties of paris, making new, one night only friendships.

we heard the bells of notre dame chiming midnight on december 25th while drinking champagne from plastic cups and eating chocolates in our pajamas. we ventured into the cold streets looking to see if anything was open, if there was anything to do, invigorated by the cold and the bubbly and the last-chance feeling of it all, and we took what we thought were vodka shots (which turned out to be tequila), toasting the holiday with strangers. we danced, we skipped, we ran through the night, stayed up until 6am, downing violet and rose infused vodka and having drunken "intellectual" and pseudo-intellectual conversation and ill-informed discussions on religion with randoms. jeremy shared an early morning kiss with a pretty french girl and everyone laughed.

it was one of the coolest nights i've ever spent, just feeling beautiful and young and indestructible.




and every two years or so, i get some of that experience, that emotion, that poise, that confidence, that very same feeling back.

i want to infuse my vodka with violets and roses and roam around dark, cold streets, warmed by the company of good friends, new friends, and strangers, warmed by the most fashionable coats and scarves, warmed by the beauty of the world and the knowledge that i have a place in it.<<

anyone else remember a time when they had this feeling? tell me your story. i know that i have plenty.